


Taking in Strays

by ICryYouMercy (TrafalgarsLaw)



Category: 16th & 17th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:04:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrafalgarsLaw/pseuds/ICryYouMercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben gets a small salary, and a nice apartment, because he's a functional and reasonable adult. Of course, he seems to be the only one, and so he doesn't have his space to himself for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking in Strays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gemothy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemothy/gifts).



When Ben got his first part-time job as a tutor, he decided that he had been living with his parents for long enough, and found himself an apartment, a few minutes' commute outside of the city, but close to both the university and the library. His parents, of course, decided that they couldn't just leave their boy to fend for himself, they weren't that heartless. And they insisted on helping, and so it took only a few weeks before Ben had an apartment all to himself, kitchen and bedroom and living room and office, in a small high-rise in a suburb, with most of his neighbours being retired couples. Ben didn't mind. It was quiet, and if he forgot to lock his door in the mornings, nothing bad would happen.

Of course, things like this never lasted. He had just barely gotten settled when Kit happened. There was no other word to describe it, really, and Ben had spent quite some time searching the library for one. But there just was none to describe this boy, who stumbled into Ben's lectures always five minutes late, a curious mixture of drunk and hungover, and too clever by half once he was properly awake. Ben didn't mind him much. He was reliable in being always five minutes late, his work was decent if careless, and his contributions to discussions were worthwhile if one managed to overhear the less-than-appropriate language.

But there was something wrong, something just a bit off about this boy, and it got worse by the week. And then, the first week of December, Kit didn't show up after five minutes, and didn't show after ten, and Ben started to worry. He was packing his notes, trying to answer five questions at once, and wondering why people always insisted on asking the most inane questions at the most unsuitable of times, when the door to the classroom clicked open. Ben looked up, realised that Kit had showed up, almost an hour late, and decided that everyone else needed to leave now, because something was not good.

And then Kit stood before him, his head carefully bowed to hide his face, and Ben didn't think 'student', he thought 'Kit', and reached out, placing two fingers beneath his chin, pushed his face upwards very, very carefully. And as though that wasn't bad enough, when Kit finally met his gaze, Ben's first impulse was to touch him, to make sure this wasn't a trick of the light or carefully applied make-up. He managed not to, asked "What happened?" instead.

Kit smiled, wincing when it reached his eyes and then shrugged. "Minor disagreement with my father," he told Ben, fingers tracing the purple bruise blooming around his eye.

"Minor?", Ben repeated, disbelief as much as doubt in his voice. And then he decided that regardless of Kit's answer, this boy wouldn't go home again. Or at least, he wouldn't go alone. "I have a spare room, if you need a place to stay," he offered, and did not consider the possible unfortunate implications of that statement. Because Kit was brilliant in all the wrong ways, and he had more potential than anyone else Ben had ever met. And letting that potential go to waste in favour of propriety and decency was not something that could be allowed to happen.

And Kit smiled again, broader and less careful this time, and Ben knew that it was too late for proper or decent. And Kit slept on Ben's couch for the rest of the week, and on Saturday, they borrowed Ben's father's car, and went to pick up Kit's clothes and books and then to IKEA, to buy a bed that was just narrow enough to fit into Ben's office next to his desk. And of course, Ben had been raised to be polite, and so Kit got the actual bedroom, and Ben moved into his office.

And he thought he might regret it, the first few mornings, when he kept forgetting that there was a desk next to his bed, and managed to acquire a surprisingly large and varied collection of bruises. But Kit was good company, and when he wasn't trying to drown himself in whatever alcohol he could acquire, he was a decent enough chef, and Ben got used to him being around.

And it wasn't as quiet anymore, but having company during dinner, and having someone who would listen to his whining about students and papers was surprisingly soothing. And Kit, in turn, took care of all the mocking Ben couldn't do, and in the three weeks left before the end of the semester, his work went from careless and hasty to reckless and daring, and every time Ben managed to fall out of his suddenly too-narrow bed and then hit his head on his desk, he reminded himself that he made the right decision, and that Kit really was doing better, and that clearly, it had been worth it.

***

And then the holidays came around, and quiet settled again, time spent getting lost and found in the library, grading papers, shouting at the television and cooking terrible but creative meals. And they didn't get along, not really, not with Ben trying to take care of Kit, reminding him to wear a scarf or to take an umbrella because it was going to rain, and not with Kit criticising Ben for being too normal, too conventional, too reasonable and adult and proper.

But it was a good time, and when classes started again, Kit was usually on time, because Ben woke him up, and made him eat breakfast, and then dragged him along to catch the train to the city, because his commute was clearly more bearable if he wasn't alone.

And then there was a class on French love poetry, and Kit mostly took it because he was bored, and Ben because he knew better than not to take at least one French class every semester, if he didn't want to lose what little fluency he had acquired for the language.

And then, one morning, this boy showed up, a quarter of an hour late and looking as though he'd just rolled out of bed. And of course he sat right next to Kit, because everyone else tried to keep their distance, because everyone else knew that sitting next to Kit was going to be a terrible decision in a class one needed to pay attention to.

Kit rolled his eyes at Ben, and Ben shrugged, and they decided that for now, they might as well ignore the newcomer. Of course, they should have considered that that was not going to work, because it never did. Not five minutes in, and a terribly flowery sonnet they should be analysing on the overhead projector, the new kid leaned closer to Kit and whispered: "Is it just me, or is this really, really gay?"

And Ben just let his head drop onto his notes, because of course that was going to happen, and he did not feel like hiding a body for Kit quite now. It was too early in the morning for murder.

"Yes. Problem?" Kit whispered back, and Ben was tempted to cross himself, because maybe, just maybe, one or another higher power might feel inclined to get him out of here before blood was going to be spilt.

The kid shrugged, and said something that Ben couldn't understand, but Kit seemed to almost melt into his chair, so it couldn't have been bad, not really. And then their lecturer found the next poem, and there was a few moments' silence while everyone tried to get their heads around the old-fashioned French, and then the kid whispered, clearly audible in the quiet lecture hall: "Is that a dick joke?"

And that was when Ben decided that clearly, whoever that was, he was worth keeping around, even if only for sheer entertainment value.

The smile the lecturer sent in their direction was surprisingly pleased, and for the remaining lecture time, Kit and the new kid were trying to outdo each other in finding the most inappropriate interpretations of the poetry under discussion, and trying to find the most inappropriate ways to describe said interpretations. And Ben sat next to them, far too amused to be embarrassed, and trying his best to keep up with taking down notes, because even if they would turn out to be hilariously wrong about everything, they must surely get some points for the sheer enthusiasm of their trying.

And of course, Kit wasn't going to let someone leave who managed to keep up with him, and Ben wasn't going to let someone leave who wasn't intimidated by Kit, and after lunch break, they knew that the new kid's name was Will, and that he had just finished an internship somewhere or other, and that he had never thought he'd ever go to university, and apparently, university was the best and coolest and most wonderful thing ever, and Will was trying to take as many classes as humanly possible, because clearly, someone could decide to make him leave again any second now.

Ben did not want to know. He did, however, decide that they could do worse when it came to friends, really, and clearly Will was going to need someone who was just a bit more realistic and a bit less excited and emotional. And of course it spiralled from there, Will with his boundless enthusiasm always looking for advice, and looking for reassurance, and forgetting things like eating or sleeping or leaving the library before it closed, and Ben and Kit trying to keep him from hurting himself too badly.

Which was why after a month or so, Ben started expecting Will to come over for dinner, if only to make sure the boy would eat something. And Kit used that opening to make Will watch terrible television with him, and by the time summer began, Will had started keeping a change of clothes and a blanket in the drawer under the couch, and he spent the night more often than not.

And then the end of the semester happened, and Will turned all that badly focused enthusiasm onto learning biology, and Ben was amused for a while, and then confused, and then he finally asked, and in answer was presented with a waterfall of words about how there was this class about autopsies, and criminal medicine, and another one about psychology, and medical history, and a chemistry class about various intoxicating substances, and it had been so interesting, and Will didn't think he'd ever get another chance to learn all this, and. And Ben had gone, and made Will a cup of tea, and then sat next to him, grading papers while Will tried to learn too many things all at once, with a countdown ticking to his next test.

Then, on an otherwise unremarkable Monday morning, just after Will had left to take yet another test, the doorbell rang, and there was a woman introducing herself as Mary, William's mother. And because Ben didn't know what else to do, he invited her in, and offered her tea, and hoped that nothing bad had happened or was about to happen.

"So, William told me he lives with you now?", she asked, and Ben realised that she might not look much like her son, but they had the exact same mannerisms and expressions, right down to their tone of voice.

But Will didn't live with them, not really, he was just crashing on their couch because he was usually too tired to remember that he needed to leave the library before ten at night, and because he tended to forget to eat if they didn't remind him, and Ben told Mary so, because he might not be a good person, but he knew better than to lie to someone's mother.

And Mary listened carefully, and then asked to see the couch where William slept, and Ben showed her, because there was not much else he could think of doing. And Mary was not bound by politeness or exhaustion or gratefulness, and after a few moments of examining the couch, she declared that it was not a fit place for William to sleep. In fact, she did not regard it as a fit place for anyone to sleep, and Ben readied himself for an argument, because as much as he believed in being polite and friendly, Will was old enough to make his own decisions, and neither Ben nor Kit were prepared to see him leave just because his mother was a bit worried about him.

And Mary must have seen something in his eyes, some sort of defiance or hurt or anger, because before Ben could say anything, she had already raised her hand, motioning him to be quiet, and declared: "No, don't worry, I'm not making him move. But really, you need a better place for him to sleep. Do you have any plans for today?"

Ben had thought about grading yet more papers, and maybe restocking the fridge, but that could wait until tomorrow, and really, he was strangely curious as to what, exactly, Will's mother was planning to do. "Nothing that couldn't wait, why?" he answered.

Half an hour later, he found himself in a strangely posh furniture shop, being dragged from one fold-out couch to the next, with Mary reading out description after description to him, and making him lie down on every single one, because young people of today, they just pick nice things, and don't consider comfort, and that was just wrong, and since William was currently writing a biology exam, Ben would have to be the one to find a couch that would be suitable for sleeping on.

Ben hadn't known that there were that many different couches even existing, and he hadn't known that it was possible for a single one person to have so many opinions on so trivial a subject, but he did as he was told, and wondered how he was supposed to afford any single couch that Mary seemed to consider even halfways suitable for her darling boy, and so he tried his best to find fault with all of them, desperately hoping that she would give up after a while, and he could just forget that any of this ever happened.

And then Mary found something even Ben couldn't find fault with, white fake leather, comfortable, and the colour fitting perfectly with the rest of the room, and it even came with drawers underneath, perfect for Will's steadily growing collection of books that he had started to build into questionably stable towers beneath the windowsills.

And then Mary was dragging him along to the next check-out, and Ben was desperately searching for a polite and subtle way to tell her that there was no way he could afford a couch like that, and couldn't they just go to IKEA instead, please, and at some point his worrying must have found a way through Mary's enthusiasm, because she turned to look at him, and he voice was almost soft when she asked "What's wrong, don't you like it?"

And Ben found himself forced to admit that no, he liked the couch just fine, there just was no way he would be able to afford it on a salary that had never been mean to provide food and housing for more than one person, and Mary starred at him in surprise.

"You thought I would make you pay for this?"

Ben nodded, desperately embarrassed, and wished for a hole in the floor to open and swallow him.

Instead, Mary hugged him, like he was a confused and scared child, and not a fully grown man. "Oh, you silly boy," she said, and "consider it a house-warming gift," and "William likes living with you," and Ben didn't know what to reply to that.

So he watched in wordless astonishment as Mary arranged for that couch to be delivered to Ben's apartment, and for a bill to be sent to her, and then used Ben's surprised inattention to drag him grocery shopping, and by the time five o'clock came around, Ben had somehow acquired a new couch, and a fully stocked fridge, and an invitation for dinner on Saturday, because Mary wanted to get to know her son's friends.

***

By the time autumn came around again, Ben had gotten used to the fact that Mary would show up occasionally with cookies or potted plants or decorative table cloths, or would invite herself for dinner, or would show up just before Kit started cooking, and take them out for dinner at whatever new restaurant she had decided she needed to try. And while Will was generally somewhat embarrassed about the attention, Ben and Kit were usually much too surprised at the fact that someone's parent could take an active interest in their child's lives, and yet be supportive and happy for them.

Of course, within the time of a year, Ben's apartment had gone from quiet and tidy to almost crowded and lived in, but the company was well worth the bother, he decided. And really, they've had all summer to get settled, and to get used to each other's presence, and to sort out the issue of privacy automatically arising with someone living in the living room.

And that was when everything changed again because then Tom showed up. And the first few weeks of his presence, neither Will nor Ben actually saw him. Because mostly, his interactions with them consisted of Kit flirting with him in a rather obvious attempt to make him uncomfortable, and Tom sending Kit terribly flowery and graphic and pointedly heterosexual love poetry in an attempt to return the favour.

And after about three weeks of listening to Kit's ceaseless complaining and ranting over dinner, Ben decided that enough was enough, and Kit had until Friday to ask Tom to come over for dinner, or Ben would do it himself.

Two evenings later, Tom showed up with flowers for Ben, and chocolates for Kit, and a library book that Will had been desperately trying to find for the last week. And Ben took a second to wonder how much of that courtesy was nervousness, how much was uncertainty, and how much was just another way of trying to annoy Kit.

And then, it turned out that Kit wasn't all that annoyed, not for any reasonable definition of annoyance, and that Tom, when he wasn't being obnoxiously heterosexual for Kit's entertainment, was a decent person to have around. And as much as Ben was certain that there simply was no space in his apartment for yet another person to sleep, he didn't much protest when Kit's and Tom's friendship went from occasional attempts at making the other a bit uncomfortable to an all-out war, where Tom would cover the walls of Kit's bedroom with pictures he cut out of various Playboy magazines and calendars and similar, and Kit in turn would do mature and rational things like seductively eating cornflakes, or kissing Tom for the most ridiculous reasons he could come up with.

By the end of the semester, their war had predictably cooled down, with both of them busy finishing all the necessary papers, and revising for exams, and generally trying to keep up with all the homework they had neglected of the course of autumn. And when the winter holidays started, and Kit spent several mornings poking his breakfast as though it had personally attacked him, Ben gave in. He went to find Tom, and then went to borrow his father's car, and then took Tom to IKEA, made him buy a bed and a small chest of drawers, and then some sort of fold-able room-partition-thing, and Tom moved from his room on campus into Ben's living room.

Will made faces at him for a few minutes, and then decided that really, there were worse people to share a room with, but if he ever got a boyfriend, they'd have to reconsider this. And Tom didn't react to that, didn't whine or complain or make gagging noises the way he would have done had Kit said the same thing, which pretty much confirmed that really, that was just his and Kit's way of awkward, non-sexual flirting.

Ben went to make dinner, and Will helped Tom to set up his bed, and then they rearranged the bookshelves and drawers until there was space for two sets of school books and notes.

And from then on in, Tom's and Kit's flirtations got worse and better at the same time, and Ben had stopped counting how often he found the two of them and Will passed out in front of the television, the intro to one movie or another on repeat, and the three boys in an awkward pile of blankets, pillows and empty cups of coffee.

It was peaceful, if crowded, and winter passed without much trouble, even if Will spend quite some time freaking out about yet another set of rather improbably timed exams and deathlines, and Mary started expecting four people instead of three for lunch on Sundays.

***

The last one to come along, to Ben's endless entertainment, was another Tom. And this one was a lot more like Kit than like Will or Tom. And Tom, in the interest of preventing further confusion, decided that really, if the next stray Ben was to take in was sharing his name, then, please, would they mind just using his last name, because that might make everything if not simpler, then at least somewhat easier understood.

And so Ben, one Sunday morning, switched out the sign on the letter box, and the one under the doorbell, and he should have done that long ago, but it had never really mattered, not when he was happily busy grading paper and cooking dinner and arguing about literary analysis and literature with anyone willing. But now, it seemed like really, something should be done, if only to show that no, really, his apartment was full already, and there was simply no space for anyone else.

So now the piece of paper he fumbled under the plastic cover read ' _Ben, Kit, Will, Nashe, Kyd_ ' in Ben's spiky cursive, and it didn't really matter that technically speaking, Kyd didn't live here, because Ben knew it was only a matter of time yet.

Because Kyd showed up with rings under his eyes and five minutes late for Ben's lectures, and his homework was handwritten and looked as though done in whatever time he had managed to find, broken-up sentences and hasty corrections, and clumsy, uneven letters, references added with pencil over dark blue ink, citations written in the margins in cramped and messy lines.

And Ben knew the rules, knew about online submissions and word documents and proper formatting, but Kyd's work was solid and thorough and while he lacked Kit's brilliance, his writing was well-researched and well-considered, and Ben didn't think failing him would improve his situation even the least bit, and so after the third essay Kyd handed him with the letters on the title page smudge with drops of either tears or water, Ben decided that something had to be done, and managed to inform Kyd that no, this was not acceptable, and could he please find a computer to type it up.

And Kyd seemed to fall apart at that, seemed to simply disintegrate, and Ben realised that no, he probably couldn't. And because there was nothing else to be done, not with a student who didn't meet his eyes and who didn't contradict him, and who seemed to have lost whatever hope he had left, Ben invited him over for dinner.

And then Kyd sat at their table, trying to make himself as small as possible between Kit's expansive gestures and Will's badly censored cursing, and he didn't eat much, and what little he ate, he ate as quickly as possible, as though scared someone would take it away again, and Ben decided that this simply wouldn't do. He had waited for proof when it had come to Kit, had waited for something to go wrong because he hadn't known what else to do. But it had been more than a year since, and he had learned his lesson.

So he let Will do the dishes, and let Nashe ask Kyd annoying questions about his studies, and dragged Kit outside and then down to the basement, made him sit on the basement steps and asked him for help.

And Kit was quiet for a long, terrifying moment, before he finally started talking, about being lost and lonely and not knowing where to turn to, and about writing papers when his father couldn't possibly notice, and about trying to fit in a full time job next to his classes because his parents could never notice, could never know that he was doing something as useless and worthless and university, and talked about fights and shouting and threats because being wrong and being unnatural was already bad enough without being wrong, and talked about how terrified he had been, when Ben had seen him, when Ben had reached out to help, because that never happened, not to people like him.  
And then, when Ben thought that everything had been said, Kit finally looked at him, and told him that even if it might be scary, and even if he might end up making the wrong decisions, it had been worth trying then, and it would be worth it now.

And Ben hugged him, and went to talk to Kyd.

Of course, by then, Will and Nashe had found their laptops and were already busy typing up Kyd's essay, and one of them had made tea and cookies, and Kyd was still watching then cautiously, as though convinced that any second now, they would turn to him, and do something terrible.

And Ben stood in the doorway for a while, watching them, and then decided that it was not going to get better if he didn't do something, and so he cleared his throat and when Kyd looked up startled and frightened, Ben said "You can stay here tonight, if you want to, finish that paper properly this time."

And Will looked up and added "And then you can watch terrible soap operas with Kit, because shouting at the television makes everything better."

And Kyd turned to Nashe, because someone would send him away, would tell him that of course he couldn't stay, of course he couldn't have friends or fun, and Nashe smiled, and said "I have pyjamas you can borrow."

And Ben decided that even if his apartment was worlds away from the quiet and private space he had imagined it when he first moved in, he wouldn't change it for the world now.

Midnight found the five of them in pyjamas on Will's bed, cookie crumbs strewn all over everything, watching Disney movies and complaining about classes, and by the time the movie was finished and the intro had played for the second time, even Ben was asleep, still on the couch, because there was no way he could have disentangled himself from the others without waking them up, and while Kit and Nashe and Will might not mind so much, Kyd needed whatever sleep he could get, and Ben wasn't about to wake him up now.

Of course, the next morning his back hurt something terrible, and he couldn't turn his head without cursing from the pain lacing through his neck, but Kyd looked almost awake, and the rings under his eyes had gone from dark purple to grey, and he ate breakfast without complaint, so Ben decided that really, that trade was more than a fair one.

And that Saturday, Nashe and Kit went to get the rest of Kyd's clothes, and made their apologies to his parents, and decided to never return, and Kyd and Will and Ben went to IKEA, because clearly, Kit would need to share now, when every other conceivable sleeping space was already taken up. But of course, with Kyd being Kyd, and with Ben being Ben, they left with yet another bookshelf, and a mattress and bedsheets and pillows, but no actual bed, and that would be a disaster waiting to happen, but right now, none of them could bring himself to care.

And so there was yet another bookshelf in the living room, and Ben was entirely unsurprised to discover that between the five of them, they now owned five absolutely identical copies of the Illiad, and more translations of Ovid than any normal apartment should contain.

And Kyd slept on a mattress in Kit's room for the first two or three nights, and spent most of the time between midnight and eight in the morning curled up in a small, anxious ball on the kitchen floor, drinking tea and trying to disappear. And they had started standing watch, Ben sitting next to him grading papers from midnight to three o'clock, and then he went to wake Will, who would usually just sit there reading until around six, and then would go and wake up Nashe, who would start to make breakfast then.

And the fourth night, when Kyd once again couldn't sleep, and once again started to leave for the kitchen, so that at least he wouldn't disturb Kit, Kit grumbled something, and reached out for him, dragged him onto the much too big bed that used to be Ben's, and declared "No tea now. Sleep."

And then he curled up around Kyd, his leg slung over Kyd's, hugging him close, using his chest as a pillow, and Kyd held his breath for several moments before he realised that Kit probably wasn't all that awake, and then he realised there was no way he could get up now, not without waking him up.

And he resigned himself to another sleepless night, no more refreshing, but at least marginally more comfortable, listening to Kit's even breathing, and while he was still trying to figure out what, precisely, was so soothing about this sleeping arrangement, he was already dead asleep.

And the next morning over breakfast, Nashe was whining at Kit how 'make him sleep for even one night, please' was something entirely different from 'seduce him', and how really, could Kit stop corrupting people for one second even, and Will was giggling about a particularly terrible paper Ben had found, and Ben was cursing them all because today was his day off, and couldn't they have let him sleep a bit longer, and Kyd was drinking orange juice, still half asleep, with his head leaning against Kit's shoulder, and Ben decided that really, this had been a good decision. Because of course he hadn't found a quiet and well-organised and tidy place to live in, but he couldn't bring himself to regret this too much, when instead he had found a home.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be my headcanon as regards modern-day!au!ben and his living arrangements, and then I accidentally 5000 words of fic.


End file.
